Page 110 of Fierce-Baker

He supposed it didn’t matter, nor that he couldn’t ever seem to get the drama with his parents out of his head.

Could be his mother texting him again over the weekend, giving him an update on how his father was handling his medication. More like complaining.

What did she want him to say?

Brittany was probably right—his mother was trying to get the two men in her life to reconcile.

“I’m glad it’s going so well. I’ve got to admit, all those friends of mine who bitched about their jobs… You won’t hear me doing it. Not unless stuff doesn’t taste right, but I still love coming in daily.”

“I always said the same thing,” Gavin said. “It’s a lot of work running a business. Dealing with the public even, long nights, weekends. Not really a life for a family either.”

“You two seemed to make it work just fine. The same with your kids.”

“It’s all about how you make use of the time,” Gavin said. “Including everyone when you can and making the right moments count. Brody and Aiden, they work the hardest, or the longest hours daily. They were both night owls and luckily found the right women in their lives who felt the same.”

“That makes a difference for sure.”

He remembered back at his old job, when he started in the brewery and then slid over into the distillery. He’d been workinglong days into the night, weekends also. He filled in where they needed him because it wasn’t nearly the operation here.

Though the Fierce distillery was still only a few years in, he had twenty-five staff working for him, a manager under him to deal with scheduling and staff issues, and he was left to do most of the producing, testing, and formulas.

Talk about a sweet deal without too much responsibility.

And all those extra hours he put in, that was on him to make Mason proud. To not have him regret giving him the shot.

But now that he had someone in his life—not just one person, but two—he didn’t want to always work those late nights. Or run in on the weekends. Not to just kill time because he was lonely.

He did if it was required, because he’d never slack off on his job.

And Tasha, she understood. She never once complained.

She never once asked him to rearrange anything.

Guess it was what Gavin said—making the time together count.

“What about you?” Gavin asked. “Sounds as if things are working out well with Tasha?”

“They are.” He measured out the lemon juice, then the sugar for his batch, added in the gin and hit the button for it to mix together.

“Are you going to let me try that?”

He laughed. “As if you’d listen if I said no. I know where my paycheck really comes from.”

Gavin wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll get the club soda ready.”

“It’s on the counter over there,” he said, nodding his head. There were several glasses lined up next to it.

“Is Mason coming down to try it?”

“If I think it’s good enough,” he said. He moved to his laptop and punched in the measurements he used. Not a big batch,but enough to see where they could work on it before it hit the production line.

“I’m sure it’s going to be just fine,” Gavin said.

They had to wait for the process to finish, but he knew damn well it wouldn’t be in silence.

“Did your wife send you in here to grill me? I didn’t think you did her bidding.”

“I volunteered once I heard what you were working on.” Gavin stood up straight to his six-foot-five height, his chest puffed out some. “Anything to get out of the house.”